“He does, Calla. You know that. He’ll be here for the last couple of weeks, just like he always is.”
“But why do we come here every year?” I ask again, and I feel stupid, but it’s a good question. Every summer, year after year. Dad has to stay home in Oregon to work, but we get to come here because mom’s family is rich.
“Because Whitley is also our home, and we have to,” my mom says tiredly. “And because of the Savage name, you have opportunities. The best doctors, the best of everything. But we have to spend summers here to get that. You already know all of this, Calla. I have to make sacrifices for you, Calla. Just appreciate that.”
I do.
I do appreciate that. I don’t understand it, but I appreciate it.
What I don’t want to tell her is that sometimes, what I know blends with what I don’t. It twists and turns and bends, turning into shapes that I can’t recognize. Facts blend with dreams, and dreams blend with memories, and then reality isn’t real.
I always feel too silly to ask anyone but Finn what is real and what is not.
They’d think I’m crazy.
I’m not.
Dare kicks me lightly beneath the table and I glance at him quickly.
He grins, his familiar, ornery grin and I love it. Because it always seems like he’s daring me when he smiles.
Daring me to…what?
He leans over.
“I’m going to the garden tonight after dark. Wanna come?”
I hesitate.
It’s dark out there. And the moors. And at night, they growl.
Dare notices my hesitation.
“Are you scared?” he whispers mockingly.
No, of course not. I shake my head. Accusing someone of being scared is the worst insult possible, I think.
He smiles again.
“Then sneak out and meet me at midnight. You know Finn will be surrounding himself with his Latin books. I know you won’t want to join that.”
No, of course I don’t. Latin annoys me, but Finn has developed a fascination for it, and spends every free second studying it.
“You know you want to,” Dare adds.
“Fine,” I agree, trying to sound grudging, but chills run up and down my arms in anticipation, because what does he want to do out there in the dark?
He’s so… rebellious. It’s hard to say.
True to my word, I sneak out of my bedroom and slip out of the house at midnight. I run as fast as I can down the paths because I swear there’s something chasing me.
Something dark,
Something scary.
But when I glance over my shoulder,
There’s never anything there.
I burst through the garden gates, and Dare is already here.
He smiles, and his teeth are pearls in the night.
“Hey,” he greets me casually, like it’s not midnight and we’re not breaking rules.
“You’re not supposed to leave the house,” I remind him.
He shrugs. Because he’s Dare and he’s a rule-breaker. “So?”
It’s a challenge and I don’t address it. Mainly because I don’t have a good answer.
I don’t know why he’s not supposed to leave the house. It’s never made any sense to me. It’s not fair. But then again, Uncle Richard has never been fair to Dare.
“You and I are alike, Calla,” Dare tells me, and the night is quiet and his voice is soft. “I’m in prison here, and you’re in prison in your mind.”
“No, I’m not,” I protest stoutly. “I’m medicated. I’m fine.”
Dare shakes his head and looks away. “But you know what it feels like.”
I do. I have to admit that I do.
“No one knows what it’s like to be me,” I whisper. “Not even Finn. It’s lonely.”
“I know what it’s like,” Dare finally answers. “You’ll never have to explain it to me. You’re not alone.”
While we sit and examine the stars, our shoulders bump into each other and absorb each other’s warmth, and I think that might actually be true.
Dare and I are the same. When I’m with him, I’m not alone.
“Why are you a prisoner?” I ask after a few minutes, broaching a forbidden topic, hesitant and afraid that he’ll snap at me. But he doesn’t.